


You Can Go Home Again

by rivlee



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Meet the Family, Other, Spartacus Fan Challenges, Spartacus Project Finishing Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3541877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barca doesn't want to return to his hometown for his high school reunion, but through some Melitta-brand persuasion and some Pietros-brand help he goes anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Spartacus Fan Challenges Project Finishing Fest on tumblr, and also fulfills weeks two and three of the character specific challenges.

Pietros Williams was only half-awake when he got to his reception desk at Ludus Products. He was almost always the first in the door, save the accountants who never seemed to leave, and it was a struggle to remember the passcode to the voicemail box, much less how to turn on the coffee machine. He was surprised to find a freshly brewed cup, still quite warm to the touch, on his desk. Pietros shook off his coat and unwound his scarf, before he grabbed his lunch bag and went back to the break room to discover the magical coffee elf of goodness and joy. 

He almost tripped and fell into the wall when he only found Barca Tyre in the room. 

“Uh, good morning,” Pietros said. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Barca looked up and smiled, before sliding past Pietros to go to his desk, taking his gorgeous hair and addictive-crisp smelling cologne with him. The smile wasn’t much, but it was a damn near soliloquy coming from Barca. He wasn’t the talkative type, though he always asked Pietros how his day was going halfway through, and always made sure to say goodbye, or to see if he wanted a ride to the train station if it was raining, or snowing, or too hot, or god, really, he was just such a decent human being and Pietros was sort of stupidly hung-up on him. Naevia used to tease him about it, until she met Barca one day when they ran into each other at the grocery store. Then she found out they went to the same gym. She’d been supportively silent ever since, with a kind back rub whenever Pietros came home, collapsed on the couch, and uttered his name. 

The word _Barca_ had become its own testimonial statement in their household.

Pietros shook his head at his own stupidity and put his lunch in the fridge. He checked to make sure the coffee pots were ready for the whole slew of people who were about to arrive, before slowly walking back to this desk as rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He went to check his messages from last night when he stopped short. There was a tiny origami crane hidden on his keyboard. He carefully picked it up and cradled it in the palm of his free hand.

“I shall name you George,” he said as he put it on top of the picture frame of him, Naevia, and Diona.

************

Barca Tyre hadn’t run away from home, so much as he left for college and just never returned. It was difficult growing up in a small town where your father was the Vice Principal of your high school and everyone knew how much he disapproved of you. If it wasn’t Barca’s clothes, it was his hair, or his interests, or his studies. Then it was his lack of girlfriends, his running around with Auctus and getting caught by the local cops. Then it was denial of helping Barca go to a major university, yelling when he went to community college instead, and then even more anger when Barca said he and Auctus were breaking up. It didn’t matter that Barca wanted a family, and Auctus wanted what he thought of as freedom. What mattered to Barca, what Barca _wanted_ , was never truly important to Mago. It was all about image and protecting their good family name. The Tyres weren’t quitters, and Barca remained a shining example of shame to Mago.

So Barca transferred to a four-year university in the city. He ran away and never went back. Modern technology and social networking meant it was a little difficult to completely disappear. He still talked to the old crowd; Melitta, Oenomaus, Gannicus, and even Auctus now that it no longer hurt to see his face or speak his name. He didn’t regret the running; he’d found a life and friends here. He had his bar buddies, friends he hung out with at the gym, the one librarian who always put his name on the Reserve list before he had to ask. He had his favorite cashier at the grocery store, his normal place for a nice breakfast on the weekends, and his routines. He had Pietros, who somehow made each day a little better, with a genuine smile or, like he had on Friday, with an origami owl. It was something Pietros started when he lost his voice a few years ago and couldn’t speak. One of the interns had manned the phones while Pietros had glared and made tiny shapes out of paper, starting with a pigeon that he gave to Barca in thanks for the bag of throat lozenges and scarf he’d brought in just for him. 

Most days it was enough for Barca just to enjoy the company, but he did have his moments where he missed the people who knew him. He missed not having to explain why he reacted to things in a certain way, or why there was no such thing as home for the holidays. He missed the simplicity of people who had known him since birth. 

Barca glanced back at the origami pigeon nestled in between a set of files and smiled. True, he missed some things, but he’d gained some he’d miss even more if he went back.

************

“I’m here to see Barca Tyre,” a woman requested. Or demanded. Or ordered. Her tone of voice suggested it was in Pietros’ best interest to give her what she wanted.

“We don’t normally allow personal visits,” Pietros said. He hoped he wasn’t glaring, because he prided himself on his professionalism. The woman before him was beautiful. Her skin was perfect, she was delicate, yet clearly determined. He didn’t like to think about who she was to Barca, who kept so much of himself hidden.

“I promise not to make it a habit,” she said. “Hopefully this is a one-time visit. Two at most if he doesn’t cooperate.”

Pietros nodded. “Your name?”

“Melitta Oenomaus,” she said. “Make sure you tell him the full name.”

From the look in her eyes Pietros wouldn’t dare to do otherwise. He tried not to let his mind get swamped with all the worst case scenarios, but he kept circling back to paternity test. He knocked on the side of Barca’s cubicle.

“Yes?” Barca asked. He looked up and dropped his glasses. “Pietros, are you okay?”

Pietros hated that he imagined the concern there to be more than just friendly. “There’s a woman here to see you. A Melitta Oenomaus.”

Barca’s face fell, and then went blank. He carefully folded his glasses. “I see,” he said.

“Would you like me to send her away?” 

Barca shook his head. “She wouldn’t leave even if you tried.” He stood up slowly, as if trying to rebalance the weight of the world.

“Alright there, Atlas?” Pietros asked.

Barca suddenly laughed. He clapped Pietros’ shoulder as he passed. “Thank you for that,” he whispered low. 

Pietros watched as Melitta’s face softened when she spotted Barca. She reached a hand out and hovered it over the ends of his braids. Pietros had to stop himself from doing the same action more often than not. He was jealous of that sense of intimacy she so clearly shared.

“Your hair has gotten so long,” she said. “I see you’ve started to take better care of it.”

“I have it professionally done now,” Barca said. He hunched his shoulders as if he was trying to make himself smaller. “I’ve said it over the phone, but congratulations.”

She grinned then, truly happy. “Thank you.”

“It was about time,” Barca said. 

Melitta shrugged. “You know Oenomaus, always has to do the honorable thing. He didn’t want to get married without my parents’ consent, and they wouldn’t give it to him until he was firmly established in a decent career. It’s all done now. We sent an invitation two years ago.”

Barca nodded. “I was out of the country at the time.”

“Bullshit,” Melitta said. 

“I was in Canada,” Barca argued.

“Oh, was it in October?” Pietros asked. He held up the souvenir mug he used to hold pens. It had a moose on the outside and Barca had said it stood in place for all origami moose of the future. “He did go then for some accountants’ convention.”

That somehow made Melitta look even more disgusted. “You could’ve RSVP’d.”

Barca rolled his eyes. “You know I’m shit at these things, Melitta.”

She nodded in agreement. “I do, which is why I personally offered to hand-deliver this, since you’ve already missed the fifth and tenth year anniversaries.”

She held out a thick cream-colored, cardstock. It looked expensive; the print was some loop cursive under the emblem of a raging ram. Pietros couldn’t read much from the angle, but he did see the _Class of 1999_. He tried not to laugh as he pictured Barca as a high school senior. What he must’ve looked like then.

Melitta winked at him. “He was adorable,” she teased. “Hair was much shorter, and he was scrawny. The bulk up didn’t start until college when he decided to remake himself.” She waved the invitation. “Take it, Barca, it won’t bite.”

“No, it might do worse,” he said.

Melitta pursed her lips, a displeased look tugging at her features. “I’m not leaving until you take it.”

Barca carefully took it, as if he was handling an explosive. “You can leave now.”

Melitta crowded into Barca’s personal space and tugged his chin down so that their eyes met. “You will come, or I will drag you there by your hair.” She patted his face and then turned with a flourish. 

Pietros watched her go; a conquering general leaving the field. When he turned around, Barca was gone.

************

The invitation went into the trash the second Barca returned to the safe space that was his grey-and-tan cubicle walls. He took a deep breath, then another, before trying to concentrate on his work. He didn’t want to go home; he never planned to return, no matter whom he missed, but he knew Melitta never made idle threats.

She’d send Gannicus next. Oenomaus would come after that. He could never tell Oenomaus no.

The smell of spicy vanilla filled his nostrils, and Barca knew that Pietros had followed him. A soft sigh echoed loudly in the space. “You should go,” Pietros said. He dug the invitation out of the trash and smoothed out its wrinkles. “Your friend obviously wants you to be there.”

Barca run a hand over his face and tried to hide from Pietros’ kind eyes. “I’m not proud of who I was.”

“Are you proud of who you are _now_?” Pietros asked.

Barca faltered with the answer and dropped his hand. “There were goals I had, things I’d wished I’d done, before I ever went back there again. I haven’t met half of them.”

“Give me one and we’ll see if we can start it by the end of the workday,” Pietros said.

Barca laughed, surprised at how incredulous it sounded. He never liked to take that tone with Pietros, who always deserved the utmost respect. “You’re just going to pull a husband out of thin air, Pietros? I think that’s something beyond even your skills.”

Pietros carefully propped himself next to the printer. His head rested against the shelf containing binders full of past years accounts. He almost looked at home among the smell of toner and felt-tip markers. Barca couldn’t think of that now when he was having a post-quarter-life-crisis. 

“I’ll do it,” he said.

“What?” Barca asked.

“I’ll pose as your fiancé or partner or boyfriend, or whatever. I know it never quite works out in the Hollywood version of life, but I think that’s because it always involves hired escorts and strangers. We know each other; you know how I take my coffee and I know your anti-green bean stance.”

“They’re horrible and no amount of sauce or seasoning will change my mind,” Barca said.

Pietros smirked. “You ate my casserole.”

“You stuffed it with cheese and French Fried onions; of course I ate it.” This Barca could do; to easily remember his life here, and the office holiday parties, and having Pietros threaten him with various vegetable side-dishes. 

“The point is,” Pietros said, “that I think it would be good for you to go home again. You’ve always had this sort of strain to the way you hold yourself.”

“Thanks,” Barca muttered. He almost gasped in surprised when a hand settled atop his head.

“It wasn’t meant as an insult, just an observation. If nothing else, going back there will let you finally, firmly, put the past behind you. You’ll never forget it, but at least this way you can say you went back on your own power, and you left on your own terms.”

“You don’t know my father,” Barca mumbled. Pietros had a point though; it would be a final, nice, fuck-you to show up secure in his career. Finding someone like Pietros would be unlikely for Barca, but he could easily fabricate the story of life being damn good to him for once. 

“If nothing else, we get to see how the office reacts with both of us out for a long weekend,” Pietros said. 

“This is going to be a disaster. I just feel like I should warn you of that,” Barca said.

Pietros shrugged and pulled his hand back. He tapped a finger on the invitation. “I wasn’t doing anything that weekend anyway. I’ll go put in our leave.”

Barca scoffed. “You know my employee number?”

Pietros just rolled his eyes. “Don’t mock my administrative assistant powers, Barca.”

************

Barca had one of Pietros’ origami bunnies in his glove compartment. It rested on top of the case for his navigation system. It was a four hour drive to Barca’s hometown, and Pietros was already more besotted than he had been when he slid into the car all of seven minutes ago.

“Most people just have a St. Christopher medal,” Pietros said.

Barca ducked his head as he started the engine. “Origami Traveling Bunny Companions will be the next big thing, just wait.”

Pietros laughed softly as he placed the bunny back in the compartment and fixed the GPS to Barca’s dash. Barca swore he knew the way home, and didn’t need travel assistance, but Pietros wouldn’t put it past him to drive five hours out of the way, claim they were lost, and then call the weekend a bust. Pietros wouldn’t _mind_ , time spent with Barca was always a good thing, but they had a mission this weekend. 

“Promise me you won’t drive us off a cliff,” Pietros said.

“I’d _never_ do that to you,” Barca swore. There was such conviction in his voice Pietros had to look up from the GPS. Barca’s knuckles were gripping the steering wheel in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. Pietros patted Barca’s knee to calm him down.

“Hey, it’ll be fine. I won’t let the big, bad high school reunion end you. Our boss would kill me.”

“There are other accountants,” Barca said.

“But no other Barcas,” Pietros argued. “And if there are, we don’t want them. We got the best, okay? And if the people at this reunion give you shit, I’ll just do my sad, disappointed eyes.”

Barca whistled low. “Now that’s just cruel.”

Pietros laughed. “I can be an evil man when life calls for it.”

Barca took his eyes off the road for a second just to glance at Pietros; the worry was still there, but he looked considerably more relaxed. “As evil as a Care Bear.”

“Hey, those bastards were all about the mind control and emotional manipulation,” Pietros said.

Barca laughed. “So, like a Care Bear.”

Pietros tugged on Barca’s hair. “Just drive, asshole.”

Before Barca had picked him up, Naevia and Diona had spent three hours giving him pep talks and lectures. They’d promised to keep their schedules clear if, at any moment, Pietros needed an emergency ride out of town. He was under orders to call them at least once every four hours so they knew he was still alive. Diona had told him to consider this weekend as a relationship test-drive; they all knew how Pietros felt about Barca, but there was a complete difference from working with someone and seeing them occasionally and accidentally outside of work, versus spending a whole weekend in their life, standing by their side as they retraced old haunts of the past. 

Pietros was only a little worried; not for himself, or how Diona and Naevia would react if he _didn’t_ call in four-hour intervals, but what this weekend would do to Barca. It would probably end in disaster, just like Barca warned, because issues with parents rarely turned out well. Pietros figured Barca could honestly handle that; he didn’t have the implied hope in his eyes when he talked about his father, but the old friends? That was a completely different matter. 

Pietros leaned forward in his seat. “Can I turn on the radio?”

“I don’t know, can you?” Barca teased.

Pietros didn’t give him the satisfaction of a grammatically correct answer. He flipped it on and turned the volume up as the car filled with some old song about waiting in line as the next to be with someone.

Barca started laughing so hard there were tears streaking down his cheeks.

“What?” Pietros asked.

“I remember listening to this song as a kid—fuck. It’s older than you are.”

Pietros smirked. “So, I should start preparing myself for the cradle-robber jokes now?”

Barca shook his head as he finally relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. “Oh, fuck. Auctus is going to ask if you’re even legal.”

 

****

*******

Barca tried not to growl when they took the exit to his hometown, but it wasn’t an easy thing. He had two very enjoyable hours of laughing, talking, and singing along to the radio with Pietros; now the dark cloud of his past was starting to take over.

Gentle fingers rubbed his knee again, as they had been doing periodically throughout the drive. 

“It’s okay,” Pietros said. “We’ll get through this intact.”

The _we_ fell from his lips so easily it made Barca suddenly sad. This shouldn’t be a sham, or an illusion, he really _should_ be bringing Pietros home as his actual boyfriend, but he’d lacked the balls to do something about that before this whole mess. Now they were here, and fuck, it almost hurt. It was easy to forget that his wasn’t real. Pietros was just a supremely good person, who would get fucked over in the end by the curse that seemed to follow Barca everywhere. 

“I’m sorry,” Barca suddenly said.

Pietros laughed and it made goose bumps rise on Barca’s arms. “For what? Barca, I _really_ don’t have a problem with this, no matter how bad you think it will be. Trust me, I’ve seen worse.”

“You don’t even know,” Barca said.

Those fingers rubbed his knee one more time. “One night, we will have a long dinner, with some stiff drinks, and I will tell you the sordid tale of my past.”

“I’ll bring the whiskey,” Barca said. He turned the car into the parking lot of _Shakespeare’s Loft_. He hadn’t been here in at least seven years. “Ready? Because this is stop one.”

Pietros had already slid out of the car. Barca was distracted for a moment by the bare skin of his back that showed when he stretched his arms. He took a deep breath and took the keys out of his ignition. He could do this; he _would_ do this. He’d come to an understanding with Auctus; they were good. 

He got out of the car and joined Pietros, who slipped his hand in Barca’s own. Barca looked down at their fingers and tightened his grip.

“Anything I need to know?” Pietros asked.

_I want this to be real._

“This store is run by my ex-boyfriend.”

“Auctus, right?” Pietros asked. It shouldn’t have surprised Barca that Pietros had paid attention. He always noticed the details.

“Yeah,” Barca said. “Don’t let the scowl discourage you. He’d a decent guy under all the bravado.” Barca sighed to buy some time as he gathered his thoughts. “We were also sort of high school sweethearts, with a side of _Rome & Juliet_.”

“How fitting,” Pietros said as he cocked his head towards the store’s sign.

“Auctus is Greek, actually. He’ll give you a lecture about Pyramus and Thisbe. Don’t tempt him, or we’ll be here for five hours as he compares Homer and Vergil.”

Pietros didn’t look fazed, and was the one who ended up pulling them to the door. Auctus was doing inventory behind the counter, taking in a stack of tiny books with cracked leather covers. He briefly glanced up and waved to the left where a sign read, _Here’s Your Fucking Twilight and Fifty Shades Section, Punks_. Barca cleared his throat and waited for a second acknowledgement. This time Auctus looked up, irritating scowl marking his pleasant face, before his jaw slightly dropped. 

“Well, fuck. I owe Gannicus fifty dollars,” were the first words Pietros ever heard from Auctus. 

“I think we deserve a cut of that,” Pietros said. He made it seem so easy, but then Pietros spent his whole day talking to new people. He was always quick with words. 

“You’re new,” Auctus said as he put his iPad down. “I don’t believe I know you, or _of_ you.”

“It’s okay, I just found out about you in the car, so all things even really,” Pietros said. He offered his free hand to Auctus. “I’m Pietros, you’re Auctus, and he’s Barca.”

Auctus didn’t curl his lip at Pietros’ hand, which Barca was grateful for, but he did take it with a heavy dose of suspicion in the air. Barca tightened his hold on Pietros’ other hand and received an equal squeeze in response. 

“So, I guess a welcome is in the works,” Auctus said as he let Pietros’ hand go. “There’s not much to see or know of in this town, but if you’d like to see some ancient history, there are some yearbooks back on the local history shelf. They have little baby Barca in there, so I suggest you go back there for blackmail. Me and the Predator here need to talk.”

“Fuck you,” Barca said, more by instinct than any real anger. Pietros had eyes for the bookshelves though, so Barca let go. “I just want to preface that I was young and didn’t know any better, and the hairstyle seemed a good idea at the time.”

Pietros’ grin was enough to make Barca’s steady breathing stutter. He had disappeared into the stacks before Barca could really stop him. 

“He’s an infant,” Auctus said. “A cute one, but an infant nonetheless. I didn’t think you went that young.”

“You haven’t seen me date in the city, and when I was here there were only two of you, both older than me by default and experience. I didn’t realize I needed to pass your approval.”

“You never did, and you never had. It was just an observation,” Auctus said. 

He looked tired, worn down by life, and Barca wondered just how much business Auctus could really do in this small of a town. The store had been his mom’s, a result of her utter refusal to open a restaurant because that’s what everyone _expected_ of the new Greek immigrants to the town. Times had changed since the 1980s though, and Barca was surprised if the store had been in the black at least once in the past two years. The last time they’d talked on the phone, Auctus had made mention of selling it all and finding work in the city. He hadn’t gone to college to work the counter of a family store; a duty he’d only taken up out of some need to honor his mother’s memory. 

He suddenly felt really sad and remembered all the reasons _why_ he’d stayed away from this hell hole.

“How have you been though, really?” Barca asked.

Auctus shrugged. “Life keeps rolling on. I had an offer on the store again. The historical society wants it and the county’s willing to pay a pretty penny for a possible tourist attraction.”

“A bookstore?” Barca asked.

“It was a post office before that. There’s still that bomb shelter in the basement,” Auctus said. “I’d be able to donate most of the inventory to the library I guess, though we’ve been one of their best customers. The school library will probably take it. I’ve been working odd-jobs on the weekends to make up for the loss or profits.”

“How goes the carpentry business?”

“My expert log cabin play houses for the yuppie scum dot many a backyard on the richer side of town,” Auctus said.

The side of town Barca had come from; opposite from the side Auctus had grown up on. He started humming parts of the _West Side Story_ score despite himself. 

“I hate you,” Auctus said, “but I’m glad you came back for this. Melitta was really worried you weren’t going to show. You’re the only person from your graduating class that she likes. She was going to refuse to go if you weren’t there, and that made Oenomaus all worried.”

“What about Gannicus?” Barca asked.

Auctus rolled his eyes. “How long are you here?”

“Through Sunday,” Barca said. 

“We don’t have time to explain it in four _months_ , much less four _days_.” He turned his head. “Hey, kid, you can come back out now. The old farts are done shooting the shit.”

“So charming, as always,” Barca muttered. 

Auctus’ smile went small, almost shy and quiet. “I was once to you, in the past.”

“Ancient history,” Barca firmly stated.

“I’m not looking for a repeat,” Auctus promised. 

They both turned to watch Pietros shuffle out into the open, a stack of yearbooks in his arms. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over the sight of you in overalls.”

“He was a proud member of 4H,” Auctus said. 

Barca would’ve thrown something at him, but it seemed wrong to damage the property of a man who was about to sell his livelihood.

 

****

********

Pietros was close to exhausted by the time they pulled into the driveway of a house with an actual white picket fence. He was almost to a food-coma thanks to the terrifying amount of meal courses Auctus had shoved down their throats. He had actually fallen asleep on Barca’s shoulder more than once that night, and if he’d done anything embarrassing like drooled on him, Barca had been kind enough not to say anything. Pietros had a bad feeling he might have, because Auctus gave Barca a _look_ when they’d finally left his house.

“Is this your dad’s place?” Pietros asked. He didn’t think it was, not with the bad blood so clear between them. 

Barca actually laughed. “Fuck, no. He’d shoot us on sight. This is Melitta’s home. If she can come to my job and threaten me with bodily harm, we can use their guest bedroom.”

“Her husband won’t mind?”

“I called him in advance. They favor early mornings around here, even on the weekends. That’s the only real thing you need to know before entering.”

“How early?” Pietros asked.

Barca just smirked. Pietros tucked his head into Barca’s shoulder and whimpered. “You _have_ brought me to Hell.”

“At least I warned you first.”

It took all of Pietros’ energy to force himself out of the car. He tried to grab his bags, but Barca waved him off and told him to hold onto the porch railings so he wouldn’t fall. Pietros didn’t completely appreciate the cracks about his stamina and endurance, but hell, Pietros didn’t normally eat that much food in a day, much less a dinner. 

The door opened before Barca could even knock.

“I knew it,” Melitta said by way of greeting. She forcibly pulled Pietros down into a hug that sent his arms flailing. “I _knew_ there had to be something more than co-workers between you two. You were practically ready to throw me out of the door the second I mentioned Barca’s name.”

“I respect my fellow employees’ privacy,” Pietros quickly said. He tried to pull back, but Melitta was having none of it. 

“They’re here,” she yelled in the direction of the stairs. She turned back to them as Barca closed the front door. “He looks exhausted, Barca, honestly. Pietros, you should take a shower and then go to bed. I’ve made the bed up already.”

“What about me?” Barca asked.

Melitta huffed. “ _You_ have earned a night interrogation.”

A man came down the stairs then, not quite as tall as Barca, but then who _was_ , with a large orange tabby cat cradled in his arms. Melitta took the cat and walked towards the kitchen with it, rattling off about late-night snack choices.

“It’s good to meet you, Pietros. Barca’s told us about you. I’m Will Oenomaus,” the man said as he held out his hand. “Mostly everyone addresses me by my last name.”

“It’s for more interesting than _William_ ,” Barca said.

Pietros took Oenomaus’ hand and tried not to feel inadequate as he stared at the muscles flexing in the man’s forearm. He could probably break Pietros’ whole right side if he wanted to, even though his fingers were decorated with Mickey Mouse Band-Aids. 

“I’ve met your wife,” Pietros said. “I think your life is interesting enough.”

Oenomaus’ smile lit up his whole face. “I know. Thank you, Pietros.” He took one of the bags from Barca, glaring at him before any protest could start. “You do look tired. If Barca drives like he used to, that must’ve been a trying trip.”

Pietros laughed as he followed Oenomaus up the stairs, Barca hovering at his back. “Why do I think there’s a story there?”

“Oh, did he fail to mention the fact his car used to get stuck on the train tracks multiple times?” Oenomaus asked.

“Obviously a design flaw and not the driver’s error,” Barca said with a fondness. 

“I’ll leave you two to get settled,” Oenomaus said as he opened the door to a cozy bedroom. He carefully placed the bags on the bed and smiled at them. “It is very good to meet you, Pietros.” He dropped any pretense around Barca and pulled him into a hug. “You were much missed,” he said low to Barca, though Pietros’ caught the words. Their foreheads briefly touched as Barca gripped the back of Oenomaus’ head. 

Pietros felt like an intruder then, so he turned to the bags and started to wonder if he should worry about sleeping arrangements. There was only one bed, which made sense. It didn’t bother Pietros; honestly, sleeping next to Barca would be no hardship. It was a thing his _actual_ fantasies were made of, though he knew reality would probably have morning breath and ice-cold feet. 

“We’ll be waiting downstairs,” Oenomaus said.

Barca laughed. “I’ll be down there soon, O, Wise One.”

“See that you do,” Oenomaus ordered. 

Pietros turned around then to watch Oenomaus go. He closed the door behind them, a gesture for privacy that they didn’t really need. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay this debt,” Barca said. He looked sad, and his eyes went everywhere but Pietros’ face. “I’m asking so much of you.”

“Barca, I’ve never seen you go through this many emotions. I think I’ve only seen you genuinely happy a handful of times. Today, even coming back to this place you’ve dreaded, you’ve been relaxed, comfortable, more yourself than I ever seen. I get that I don’t really know _who_ you are outside of work, but if I can even help a little bit to make you this relaxed and comfortable again? To help you rebuild old connections for good, and not just through tentative phone conversations and e-mails? That’ll be reward in and of itself. Look, I never really _had_ that traditional family thing, so I’m kind of big on the ones you make yourself. _This_ is your family, and if they can love and accept you? Fuck your father, seriously. These are the people whose opinions truly matter, the ones who see you as a person loved, missed, and valued.”

“And will they still be so accepting when they’ve found out I lied?”

Pietros really shouldn’t do what he was contemplating, but he’d just had a day full of True Barca, and it had gone to his head. Or his heart. Or just completely ruined the tentative hold he had on his restraint ever since the first time Barca bought an apple fritter with the office donuts _just_ for Pietros. 

He took Barca’s hands in his own, linked their fingers together, and nudged Barca’s lips with his own. They were silent then, just staring at each other, as their lips parted and they shared breath.

“Then don’t make it a lie,” Pietros said.

The reaction wasn’t instantaneous, or extreme. Barca was tentative, gentle; his hands slid up Pietros’ arms to his shoulders, to his neck, and finally cupped his jaw. His thumbs rubbed over Pietros’ lips as if he was a delicate, precious thing. It made Pietros shake, and he had to laugh to break the tension. That’s when Barca’s mouth descended on his own and Pietros rose up to meet him. It was still somehow soft, even with tongues, and teeth, in figuring out the right angle and the smushing of noses. It made Pietros ridiculously happy, a thing he could feel bubbling up inside to make him laugh again.

The knock on the door made them regretfully pull apart.

“Enter,” Barca said in a voice that sounded truly wrecked.

Melitta grinned at them. “Towels for Pietros. Let the poor boy go, Barca. He needs some rest.” She made herself comfortable in the doorway; as clear a signal as any that she wasn’t leaving until one of them did. 

Pietros kissed Barca again, because he could now, and grabbed the towels from Melitta’s hands. “Be gentle,” he said.

“I always am,” Melitta promised. 

****

********

Barca woke on Friday morning to birds chirping and the sound of laughter instead of the usual blare of his alarm. He stretched his arms and encountered another body. It was enough to take him from dozing to alert and he shot up to find an amused Pietros and an army of origami cats on his torso.

“Good morning,” Pietros said.

Barca found Pietros’ closest hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. “Good morning.”

“My palm, really?” Pietros asked.

“I’m not ruining any of this by introducing you to my morning breath so early,” he said. “Melitta forced garlic and herb dip on me last night, and no amount of Colgate before bed can eliminate that.”

This felt easy, natural, and Barca knew that it should worry him because shit like that just never happened in his life. Granted his life hadn’t really had _Pietros_ in it before, but Barca had a long history that told him he alone didn’t get to feel happiness for long. 

“I’ll risk it,” Pietros said. He leaned down, arms carefully bracketing Barca’s chest so as not disturb the paper animals below, and carefully teased at Barca’s mouth. They both needed to shave, to get started on this day that would be full of helping Melitta prepare a convention room and having another day full of introductions and small reunions, but for now Barca wanted to linger. It was only his third time getting a taste of Pietros, following a sleepy kiss as he slid into bed last night, and even with the lack of minty fresh breath, it was something Barca wanted to remember. 

Pietros pulled back with a smile. “Stop worrying this will all go to shit.”

“I’ve got a lifetime of experience,” Barca said.

Pietros scrunched his nose in a way that shouldn’t be that adorable. “But not a lifetime of me.”

 _Not yet_ , Barca wanted to say, but knew better than to tempt fate. This wasn’t the typical start to a relationship; regardless it was still too early to say anything that hinted at lifetime promises and vows.

Even if they were posing as boyfriends.

There was a soft knock at the door, which meant Oenomaus and not Melitta. Pietros slid out of the bed to answer it, even at the cost of the origami feline army and Barca’s sense of sanity. His boxers rode low on his hips, and showed off his bare, long, and lithe legs. Barca dropped his head to the pillow and stared at the slowly moving ceiling fan as he tried to control his body. From the soft sound of Pietros’ laughter, he did that on fucking purpose. 

“Barca?” Oenomaus’ voice was muffled through the door. “Are you well?”

Pietros opened the door and smiled at Oenomaus. “Good morning.”

“And to you as well,” Oenomaus said with a nod. “If you prefer breakfast first, there’s some on the table. If you forgot your toothbrush or toothpaste we have a drawer full just for our guests.”

“I’ll brush my teeth and then meet you down there. Thank you, Oenomaus.”

“My pleasure,” Oenomaus said. Barca could hear the genuine truth in his words. 

Barca forced himself to sit up and meet Oenomaus’ smug face.

“I take it you slept well?” he asked.

Barca threw a pillow at him. It was Oenomaus so of course he batted it away, but for a single second Barca felt almost victorious.


	2. Two

Pietros slipped out to the back porch while Melitta filled Barca in on her strategic decorating plan. Apparently the reunion was going to be held at the one hotel in the town and the cost of rental alone meant that they’d had to get the individual alumni to do the decorations and provide most of the refreshments pro bono. Pietros was fascinated by it all. He’d never really been involved in school functions or paid attention to them, and there was the added charming mystique of the inner-workings of such a small community. 

He pulled his phone out and called his girls. He figured if he’d waited any longer they’d be on the road to rescue him just in case.

“Darling,” Diona greeted him. Her voice sounded tinny as she said, “I’ve put you on speaker. Nae’s command.”

“Good morning, baby brother,” Naevia said.

“Good morning to you too,” he said. He grinned as he pictured them sprawled out on their living room floor, still in their pajamas and probably eating pizza for breakfast. 

“So, how did the first night go?” Diona asked, her voice muffled as she crunched down on something.

“Are you eating popcorn?” Pietros asked. “I can hear you chewing on something.”

“Naevia took the jellybeans. We’re bored and you’re our weekend entertainment,” Diona said. 

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“It’s Friday, we both took the day off, and you’re not here to cook proper breakfast food. It was either popcorn and jellybeans or Spaghetti-o’s,” Naevia said. 

“I still don’t know if you’ve made the better nutritional decision,” Pietros said. 

They didn’t speak about how none of them really taught how to cook because there were no parents to teach them, or if there were, they weren’t in the homes for long. Pietros had learned on his own through a long course of trial and error. They made their own family long ago, and none of them flourished when they were separated. The caseworkers that still kept in contact with them were hardly surprised they all still lived together. 

“You’re doing your quiet morose thing,” Naevia said. “I can hear the sad thoughts. Stop that and tell us what it’s like there. Have you met Barca’s dad yet?”

“Not yet,” Pietros said. “We’re staying with some of his old friends. I met his ex yesterday. He called me an infant.”

“Barca or the ex?” Diona asked.

“Better not be Barca or I’ll come over there and kick his ass,” Naevia said.

“You couldn’t even reach his ass,” Diona said.

“Fine, I’ll just pull his hair really hard,” Naevia said. 

“My great protectors,” Pietros said. He didn’t mention he was nearly a foot taller than both of them. “It was the ex, not Barca. The guy’s older than Barca, so I guess he has a point. He was kind of an asshole, but with a level of nice buried somewhere in there. He didn’t threaten us or anything and he fed us a ton of food too.”

“Good, ‘cause I’ll kick his ass too,” Naevia said.

“Yeah, we know, you’ll kick everyone’s ass,” Diona said. “You and Nasir and your kickboxing classes we got it. What I want to know is where Pietros slept last night.”

“Barca was a perfect gentleman,” he said before they could get any ideas.

“Yeah, but what about you?” Naevia asked. 

Pietros would’ve been insulted by the laughter that followed if it was anyone else but those two. 

“It’s a good thing I love you assholes,” he muttered. 

“We love you too,” Diona sing-songed. “Seriously relieved to hear everything’s going well.”

“Just remember we can come get you in case anything happens. _Anything_ ,” Naevia said. 

“I know,” Pietros said. “I love you.”

“We love you,” they both answered. 

Pietros smiled to himself as he slid his phone back into his pocket. It felt ridiculous to miss them after less than a day, but he did. He had plenty to distract him here though, and Barca to watch after, who so needed someone at his back. Barca might’ve been a mountain of man, but their time here had already shown what Pietros already knew. Barca didn’t know how loved he was by those around him, and he braced himself for the worst from everyone even when they only wanted to greet him with a hug. 

There was more going on here than the difficulty of trying to come back home after years away. 

He looked up at the sound of the sliding glass door. Oenomaus greeted him with a tilt of his head and a smile. 

“Pietros, I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me to run some errands. I’ve been deemed too short to help hang decorations,” Oenomaus said.

“No one’s as tall as Barca,” Pietros said.

Oenomaus laughed. “No, I’ve yet to meet such a person.” He started down the porch stairs. “Best tell Barca I’m borrowing you for the day. I’ll meet you in the car.”

“Okay,” Pietros said. 

He headed back inside and found Barca with an armful of boxes. Barca shrugged as Melitta piled another one into his arms before she walked off muttering about nametags. 

“Oenomaus asked me to help him run some errands,” Pietros said. He shook his head at the amount of boxes on the couch and near Barca’s feet. “I hope Melitta doesn’t make you break anything.”

“I’m glad to do it,” Barca said. He easily shifted his armful to the side. “Oenomaus is a good man, even if he’s still a stranger to you. If anything happens while you’re out, just give me a call and I’ll come get you.”

“You’re the second person to say that to me today,” Pietros said. “Contrary to what the world seems to believe, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, not that the thought isn’t appreciated.”

“People fight to protect the good in their lives,” Barca said, his eyes on the floor. “ _You’re_ good, Pietros. You brighten people’s day just by being there.”

Pietros knew he was blushing and was suddenly grateful Barca wasn’t looking at him just then. 

“Well, I do go the extra special mile for some people.” He approached Barca, stood on his tiptoes, and gently kissed Barca’s cheek. “I like to protect the good in my life too.”

************

The hotel’s convention room’s carpet and wall paper design was last updated in the 1970s and it showed. Barca didn’t much care since the carpet at least would be covered up by tables, chairs, and a small dance floor. Hopefully with some lighting tricks they could downplay all the red and brown.

“I know,” Melitta said as she watched him. “It’s still better than trying to hold it in the old gymnasium. They still don’t have air conditioning in there.”

“Of course they don’t,” Barca said. “That would cost money and we can’t have that going towards improving student life when there’s city council bonuses to pad.”

He looked at the boxes of donated decorations and stacks of folding tables and chairs. “Did the school even give you anything for all of this?”

“The alumni association footed the bill for the room rental. The rest is from what Oenomaus, Auctus, and I could beg, borrow, and I’m sure in Auctus’ case take-without-really-asking. I don’t know how he’s getting that bit of dance flooring in here, but apparently one of the teachers at the studio owes him a favor.”

She looked over the room with a determined nod. “We’ll still make this magical, or at the very least pleasant. The Oenomaus family succeeds against all odds.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Barca agreed. 

They worked quietly together, always comfortable with the shared silence. Barca hadn’t thought about how much he’d missed Melitta’s simple presence. She just made him calm. There was one thing that had bothered him though, ever since he arrived. There was someone missing.

“Where’s Gannicus?” Barca asked. 

He’d wondered where the blond bastard had taken off to since his noted absence at dinner last night. Oenomaus, Melitta, and Gannicus were inseparable, in a way few people knew or understood. Barca knew the greater world might judge them, but to him they were three people who perfectly balanced each other out. It was strange to be back in his hometown and see Oenomaus and Melitta minus Gannicus lounged between them. 

Melitta didn’t turn from her task of adjusting the banners at his question. Her back stiffened though, and she used more force than necessary when it came to the staple gun.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said as she left the step-ladder. 

Barca schooled his face to show none of his surprise. “Is it his? Or Oenomaus’?”

“Does it matter?” Melitta asked. “It doesn’t to me and it doesn’t to Oenomaus. We entered into this as the three of us, and now Gannicus has fucked off to god knows where. He left me, Oenomaus, this child, and our planned future.” She calmly put the staple gun down. “I hope his balls rot off,” she said with a sweet smile. “Now, where are those name tags? Must get them organized.”

“Melitta,” Barca said. He knew what it was like to bury everything in work. It was devastating when the work stopped and you had to think about what you were avoiding. He’d do anything to spare Melitta from that realization. 

She shook her head. “I don’t even want to think about it, Barca. Not today.”

He carefully put his arms around her. “So, name tags?”

“Name tags,” she agreed. 

Barca reached into the banker’s box and pulled out a stack of pre-printed labels and started to rip them off at their perforation line. He felt clumsy as he tried not to rip the flimsy paper with his big hands. He heard a sob and looked up.

Melitta held up her hand and shook her head as she leaned against a stack of foldable tables. 

Barca walked over to her and pulled her close, letting her bury her head into his chest as she silently cried. 

“I’ll kill him,” he offered. 

She hiccupped and laughed as she stood back. She wiped off her eyes and shook her head. “I get first dibs.”

“Yeah, but after that I’ll kick his ass,” he promised.

Melitta sighed and rested against him. “I know he thinks he’s doing what we want. He thinks leaving solves everything, kind of like someone else I know.”

Barca kissed the top of her head. He wasn’t going to argue the truth with her.

“He’s running scared and we just want him home, Barca. He just needs to come home. I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks, neither does Oenomaus. I wanted to go after him, but Oenomaus says he has to come back on his own, that we can’t force him. I’m just worried he’s going to get wasted in some bar in the middle of nowhere and you know how Gannicus is even when he’s sober. He’s going to piss someone off, he’ll get jumped, and we won’t be there to take care of him.”

Barca had a feeling Gannicus was closer than Melitta assumed. Oenomaus probably knew exactly where he was, though Barca trusted his reasons for not telling his wife. Oenomaus had always been a proud man who would only beg for two people. Gannicus was one of them, Melitta was the other, but Gannicus had _hurt_ Melitta. Oenomaus wouldn’t bend until that wrong was corrected. 

“It’ll work out, Melitta. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but it will,” he said. Even if he had to give Gannicus both a proverbial and actual foot up his ass, he’d make it work. 

“I suppose anything is possible,” Melitta said. “After all, you’re back here.”

Barca smiled into Melitta’s hair and hugged her close again until she said it was time to get back to work.

***********

“I’m glad to see someone like you in Barca’s life. He’s spent too long alone. It takes a great weight off my shoulders to know he has someone so dedicated looking out for him,” Oenomaus said. He pointed to a brick building in the distance. “That used to be the courthouse. It is now, of course, a Starbucks.”

Oenomaus had spent most of their drive to the shopping center playing tour guide. He seemed to know everything about each building in the town and people passing down the street. 

“Are you the town historian or something?” Pietros asked.

Oenomaus shook his head. “No, Pietros I fear I am just a veterinarian. Most everyone comes to my practice though, and I’ve been told I’m a good conversationalist.”

Pietros laughed. “There is something about you that causes immediate trust. Must be that authoritative tone.”

“Must be,” Oenomaus agreed. His smile slowly faded as he studied Pietros at a red light. “I am glad you are here. It’s good that you’re with us. If fate is kind this weekend will go well and we will have you over more often than once a decade. I fear Mago will make his presence well know though.”

“Mago?” Pietros asked. The name didn’t sound familiar, but he’d always been good at context clues. “Barca’s father, right? He doesn’t speak of him often.”

“And if he did the words would not be kind, and rightly so. Mago is a hard man who was never worthy of his son. Barca is his mother’s child, through and through. He’s always been gentler than any would think him. Barca’s never liked what everyone’s assumed about him because of his appearance. Mago wanted the closest thing he could get to a modern day warrior. That was never going to be Barca’s path and anyone who truly loved him could see that.”

“You don’t think Mago loves Barca in his own way?”

Oenomaus shook his head. “There are people who will say Barca should embrace his father because he’s the only blood family left. Excuse my language, Pietros, but those people have no fucking clue how Mago dismissed his son. I plan to do my level best to see those two never meet this weekend; Auctus has agreed to help me, I hope we can secure your aid as well.”

“Of course,” Pietros said as they pulled into the shopping center. Something occurred to him as the quiet filled the car. “You helped Barca get out.”

Oenomaus nodded. “I am glad he is back here, I won’t deny that. He needed to leave; there was no future for Barca in this town, and there still isn’t one. I hope he will visit more in the coming years.”

“You could always come to the city,” Pietros suggested. 

“Perhaps we will,” Oenomaus said as he took the keys out of the ignition. “There are some things that still remain to be seen.” 

Pietros trailed after Oenomaus into the largest Wal-Mart he’d ever seen in his entire life. 

“Holy shit,” he said.

“Unfortunately the closest Costco is an hour away,” Oenomaus said as he grabbed a shopping cart. “Our local grocery store is good for produce and fresh bread, but it lacks the super-sized packaging Melitta requires for tonight. We’re hosting a small dinner for all the volunteers and the planning committee.”

“Does she plan stuff like this for a living or something?”

“Yes,” Oenomaus said. “She was in the Hospitality field before we decided to move back home. She used to help book and run conventions in the city. When we moved back here for good she started her own business. I’m so proud of her.”

That pride was evident in the way he spoke of Melitta. 

Oenomaus handed him a list and pointed to the left. “These are the various potato chips, pretzels, and tortilla chips Melitta requested. I’ll get the drinks and meet you by the milk. My phone number’s on the top in case you get lost.”

“Thanks,” Pietros said. 

He looked around the packed aisles and finally found the one with the chips. There were too many options. He checked the list again and headed over to the section that contained the baked and organic varieties. 

Pietros jumped as someone grabbed his arm. He wrenched himself away and turned to find a man with long blond hair staring at him.

“You got a problem?” Pietros asked. 

“You are friends with Oenomaus?” the man asked.

“I’m friends with Barca,” Pietros said. 

“Then you must know Melitta. Is she well?”

Pietros was so confused. He tried to look around the end of the aisle to find Oenomaus and wave him over, but there were too many people to get a clear view.

“Why wouldn’t she be?” he cautiously asked as he reached into his pocket. He had his hand on his phone just in case. Why did he leave his keys at home? Why didn’t he take Naevia’s brass knuckles with him? Why was no one else paying attention to them?

The man nodded at Pietros’ words. “That is all I needed to know.”

He turned and walked away as if anything that just happened was completely normal.

“What the fuck?” Pietros asked. “What the actual fuck?”

****

********

Barca smiled as he watched Pietros and Melitta attempt to make little paper animals out on the back deck. He reveled in their shared laughter as he turned back to the task of cleaning and snapping the peas in his bowl.

“Joyous sounds,” Oenomaus said as he cleaned ears of corn. “Pietros had a run-in with a man I believe to be Gannicus today.”

“He told me,” Barca said. He still had that unsettled feeling in his stomach from Pietros’ phone call. He didn’t like to hear Pietros sound so upset. “I assume Gannicus is in his normal wallowing spot. Why haven’t you dragged him back home yet?”

Oenomaus’ jaw tightened, though he voice remained calm when he spoke. “I will not have him in this house with our child unless he comes to it willingly. I will not raise a child with the cloud of parental guilt, obligation, and unhappiness hanging over the household. We’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes.”

“No argument here,” Barca said. “I’m still going to talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Oenomaus said. He took the bowl of snap peas away from Barca. “Go out there and enjoy the night. You’ve done enough today. Relax. Be happy. Smile.”

“Doctor’s orders?” Barca asked.

“Don’t ever argue with the man who prepares your food,” Oenomaus said. 

Barca grabbed a bowl of chips and some water on his way out. He took a seat next to Pietros and smiled to himself when Pietros instinctively leaned into his space.

“Oenomaus kicked you out too,” Melitta said. “I swear he only does it to preserve his culinary secrets.”

She looked over her small paper menagerie and picked up one of the rabbits. “Pietros, if given all of tomorrow until about six in the evening, do you think you could make about twenty-five of these, except as rams?”

“Rams?” Pietros asked as he leaned over Barca for a handful of chips. “Why rams?”

“School mascot,” Barca said. “I’ve never seen you make a ram before.”

“I’ve tried it a few times. I’d need some decent origami paper though if you want them displayed as decorations, right? I don’t know where we’d get that around here.”

“Don’t worry,” Melitta said as she pulled out her phone and texted someone. “I’ll find some. If the rams are too difficult we can just use whatever you feel most comfortable sharing.”

“So a room full of rabbits,” Barca teased.

Pietros nudged him in the side with is elbow. “See if I ever make you an owl again.”

Pietros’ smile eased that feeling of worry and panic that had lingered. Barca still planned on having a few words with Gannicus, but for now he would follow Oenomaus’ sound advice. 

Here, in this place, with his friends in their backyard, with a man he truly cared for at his side, he felt peaceful for the first time in a very long while. He knew it would be broken soon, that guests would arrive within the hour, that the absence of Gannicus haunted their thoughts, and that the worries over what tomorrow might bring would not lead to a restful night. For now though, there was no Mago, and old school days resentment, and the all the ghosts of all their personal Christmas pasts. There was a Noah’s ark worth of paper animals, the musical laughter of Melitta joined by Pietro’s soft lilt, the ever watchful eyes of Oenomaus, and Barca among his true family.


	3. Three

Pietros woke up to warm sunlight on his face and strong arms around him. He smiled to himself and burrowed deeper into Barca’s hold. He could get used to this; he _wanted_ to get used to this damn it. 

The tranquility of their bedroom was broken by the loud vibration of Pietros’ phone on the night stand.

“Sorry,” he said as he eased out of Barca’s arms. He smiled to himself as Barca grunted and shook his head. Pietros looked at his phone in confusion. “Nasir? Why the hell is Nasir calling me?”

“Who’s Nasir?” Barca asked. 

“Naevia’s sparring partner,” he said. He accepted the call and cautiously held the phone to his ear, praying nothing bad had happened at home. “Nasir?” he asked.

“Oh thank god you answered,” Nasir said. “So you forgot to call to say goodnight and the girls were bored anyway so, they’re kind of on the road right now.”

“What?” Pietros asked. He sat up and ran a hand down his face. He couldn’t possibly be hearing what he was, in fact, hearing. “Nasir did you seriously just tell me Diona and Naevia are on their way here?”

“Your roommates?” Barca asked.

Pietros nodded as he listened to Nasir ramble on the phone.

“I didn’t think they were really going to do it,” Nasir said. “I made a joke about it last night about how they maybe should drive there to meet the family, because you know, it’s _you_ and it’s _Barca_ and, I mean, it’s about fucking time, let’s be honest.”

“Nasir,” Pietros hissed. 

“Right? Anyway that was last night. I just woke up and found my hair braided and a post-it note on my hand. So, they left some time this morning and since their chargers are here I don’t know if their phones still have power of if they turned them off or what. I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t think they’d really do it.”

Pietros could easily forgive Nasir. He’d only known them for a little over two years, he had no idea how deep the stubborn and mischievous streaks ran in Diona and Naevia, the streaks that only got worst once combined. 

“Thanks for letting me know,” he said. “I’ll call you when they get here, presuming they don’t wind up on the other side of the country or something.”

He ended the call and turned to Barca. “I hope that hotel has a free room or else I’m going to have to ask Melitta and Oenomaus for a hell of a favor.”

“There’s always room for friends,” Barca said as he sat up. He stretched his arms out. “We’ll probably have to sleep on the living room floor.”

“Maybe Naevia packed an air mattress or sleeping bags or something. She occasionally thinks strategically even when she’s being impulsive.” Pietros leaned his shoulder against Barca’s own. “Good morning.”

Barca smiled. “You too.”

“Big day today,” Pietros said. He smiled as Barca rested his head on top of his own. 

“I know,” he said. “Lots of stuff to do before it. Melitta wants a final decoration run down, I have to go track down one of my old friends, and we still have yet to know if my father will make an appearance.”

“We’ll see it through to the end,” Pietros promised. He wrapped his hands around Barca’s wrist. “Thanks for bringing me along.”

“Thanks for coming along,” Barca said.

They both drowsed as they rested against each other until Oenomaus’ soft knock signaled it was time for breakfast.

************

“Why are we at a hardware store?” Pietros asked.

“We’re after the man hiding in the apartment above the hardware store,” Barca explained. “We’ll head over to the hotel and help Melitta with the final preparations after I have a talk with the blond asshole.”

“So he was a friend of yours?”

Barca shrugged. “Was. Is. Gannicus can be difficult like that.”

The parking lot was deserted and if it wasn’t for the _Open_ sign on the door he would’ve thought the whole placed was closed. Barca knew he had to talk to Crixus first; he’d learned the consequences of trying to bust into Crixus’ place without prior approval. The man was a paranoid asshole who bobby trapped his door even when they were kids. 

The bell on the store’s front door rang as he pushed it open, Pietros following behind him, and stepped inside. Crixus looked up from his newspaper with a tight smile.

“I figured I’d see you sooner or later. Came to collect him?”

Barca was about to answer when a loud _thwack_ sounded from behind him.

Two women had engulfed Pietros in a tight hug, sending Pietros’ arms flailing right into a stack of _For Sale_ signs.

“Hey kid,” Crixus called, “you break it, you buy it.”

Naevia was the first to pull back and turned to Crixus with a glare. She looked at Barca and frowned. “Who’s the asshole?”

“Store owner,” Barca said. “Nice to see you, Naevia”

Before he really met her they occasionally saw each other at their gym, but it wasn’t until she stopped by the office one day to see Pietros for lunch that he’d learned of the connection between the two. He’d still only met Diona a handful of times. He knew them both more through Pietros’ stories.

“You look good,” Naevia said. “I like this casual style you have going on, even though I know Pietros likes that whole dress shirt and trousers thing. I think it’s the tie and the glasses.”

“Naevia,” Pietros hissed.

“She’s not wrong,” Diona said. “It’s not like you haven’t spent a whole dinner talking about how nice Barca’s ass looked that day he worse those gray trousers. You’d said you’d marry them if you could.”

“Really?” Barca asked. He’d have to remember that for future wardrobe choices. 

“Why do I know you people?” Pietros asked, even though he still had an arm securely around Diona. “Why are you two here anyway? I talked to you yesterday morning.”

“Naevia’s spidey senses were on alert,” Diona said. “Did something happen yesterday?”

“Some blond jackass grabbed me in a Wal-Mart, but other than that? Nope.”

“What?” Naevia asked. She turned her glare on Barca. “What kind of fucking town is this?”

“Hey,” Crixus said.

“Why was _anyone_ grabbing Pietros?” Diona asked. 

“We’re here to find that out,” Barca said. “The _blond jackass_ is staying in the apartment above the store.”

“Good,” Naevia said as she handed her purse to Barca. “Let’s go kick his ass.”

“If you’d like to wait a second, and I don’t know, maybe buy something since you’ve invaded my place of business, Gannicus will be down,” Crixus said. “I just texted him.”

“I’ll meet him,” Barca said as he handed Naevia her purse back. “There’s some things that shouldn’t be said out in the open. I promise I’ll let you kick his ass if he really deserves it, Naevia.”

He pointed a warning finger at Crixus. “Don’t be rude.”

“When am I ever nice?” Crixus asked. He looked at Pietros, Naevia, and Diona though and shrugged. “I have some donuts in the back if you’re hungry.”

Barca left them to it as he waited by the fire escape for Gannicus. He knew he’d probably run at Crixus’ tip-off. 

“Hey asshole,” Barca called up to him as Gannicus froze on the steps. “Long time, no see. Though apparently you’ve taken to abandoning your common-law spouses and causing bodily harm to strangers since I’ve been gone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gannicus said as he coolly walked down the steps. “I haven’t caused anyone bodily harm that I wasn’t paid to fight.”

“The guy you grabbed in the store yesterday? The one with Oenomaus?” Barca pointed at Pietros through the store window. “Kind of with him.”

Gannicus looked at Pietros, then to Barca, and then to the sky. “Fuck,” he said.

“That about sums it up,” Barca said. “I get that you’re freaked, Gannicus, but go home. They want you home. You want to go home. Just do it.”

“This town,” Gannicus said.

“Fuck this town,” Barca said. “Fuck all of them. It’s your family, it’s your kid, and no, it’s probably not going to be easy growing up with all the inevitable questions, but you know what? That kid is going to have you, and Oenomaus, and Melitta. Your family is amazing and you’re wasting fucking precious time by crashing on Crixus’ couch.”

“You ran,” Gannicus said.

“Outside of you guys I had nothing good here. I didn’t have a home, Gannicus. I had a house I lived in that I hated being inside. Go home, asshole. Well, go to the hotel first and help us decorate for this fucking reunion, but at the end of the night? Your ass better be back home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Gannicus said. He ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose I should apologize to your friend.”

“Profusely,” Barca said. “And be sincere or else his sister in there is going to kick your ass.”

“Seriously?”

Barca nodded. “Pietros has family too.”

**************

They had to head over to the hotel early before everyone started to arrive. Diona and Naevia had of course brought dresses, because of course they were going to tag along, but that didn’t seem to bother everyone. Melitta had explained that while technically invitations were required, the reunions usually turned into town wide events.

Pietros still couldn’t believe those two had shown up. He wasn’t really surprised, since all things considered he probably would’ve done the same. Barca didn’t seem bothered at all, and neither Naevia nor Diona had let slip that Pietros and Barca weren’t exactly, technically speaking, in a romantic relationship of any kind and certainly not to the degree Melitta and Oenomaus had assumed. 

Barca hadn’t made it clear if he really wanted any of this to go beyond this weekend, even if they’d both kind of hinted at wanting this to be real and something more. It just didn’t feel like a lie to Pietros, and he knew that could be dangerous if Barca felt different come Monday morning. It just—it felt right. All of this felt like it should be happening, because it was natural. It was natural to fall asleep with his head resting on Barca’s shoulder and to wake up sprawled over him. It was natural to talk to Melitta and Oenomaus like he’d known them for years instead of days. It was natural to hear Diona’s voice mixed in with Melitta’s own as they discussed their favorite theme parties. 

Pietros shivered as he felt Barca’s fingers on the back of his neck. He turned around to meet Barca’s eyes. 

“Okay?” Barca asked.

Pietros nodded and gathered his courage. “I don’t want this to end once we go back home.”

Barca looked serious as he cupped Pietros’ cheeks. His hands were so gentle as he held him. “It won’t if you don’t want it to. I know this isn’t typical, nothing about this is, but like you said in the beginning, we’re not strangers. There’s something here, always has been, and I want to keep exploring it.”

“Okay,” Pietros said. He knew he was grinning like a fool. He didn’t care. “Good.”

“Good?” Barca asked.

Pietros nodded. “Very good.”

It was natural to lean into Barca then, to slide his lips over Barca’s own, to cup the back of Barca’s neck, and to laugh into Barca’s mouth as his body tingled with happiness.

**************

Barca learned long ago to never doubt Melitta’s abilities, but he was still amazed at how she transformed the hotel’s convention room. It looked both modern and sleek, while also somehow welcoming and homey. The origami rams were a hit with the kids and Barca knew none would be left on the tables by the end of the night.

Barca leaned against the makeshift bar where Auctus was serving drinks and observed the room. Oenomaus was trapped in a corner while ever local came up and asked him for free advice on their pet’s health, whether or not he even knew the animal seemed to be of little importance. He had an actual crowd gathered around him. 

Gannicus was following Melitta, holding her clipboard and a tray of nametags, as she matched up people to nametag and greeted everyone in her wake. To an outsider Gannicus must have seemed meek for once; Barca could see that small, contented smile though when Melitta turned to him or Oenomaus met his eyes over the crowd.

Those three had a lot to talk about. Barca felt in his gut that they’d be okay. They’d work it all out somehow. They always did.

Pietros, Naevia, and Diona had taken over DJ-ing duties. Barca had almost lost it when he saw Naevia actually shoo Crixus out of the way. Crixus was still kind of looking at her like he couldn’t believe it. Those three knew what they were doing though; the sound system came through much clearer now and instead of the Best of the 80s hairbands that comprised the previous selection, there was actually music from their high school years playing. Barca toasted the three as Eve 6’s _Inside Out_ started. 

“Kids know their stuff,” Auctus said.

“Or at least how to use Google on their smart phones,” Barca said. He turned around and gave Auctus his full attention. “My how the world has changed.”

“To say the least,” Auctus agreed. He poked Barca’s arms. “Elbows off my bar.”

“I didn’t know you moonlighted as a bartender,” he said as he stood up.

“It’s been over fifteen years, and outside of some phone calls, there remains a lot of me you don’t know about,” Auctus said. “That’s okay and that’s how it is. I told you I do all sorts of odd jobs to make ends meet. Not all of us can be successful accountants, or party planners, or veterinarians, or be lucky enough to inherit a successful family hardware store, or whateverthefuck Gannicus does.”

“True,” Barca agreed. “However not all of us have your bullheaded determination to make things succeed even when it seems like they shouldn’t.”

Auctus laughed even as he shook his head. “Not this time. I sold the store to the county. It was time. It’s time to, I don’t know, I don’t want to say move on, but it’s time for something.”

Barca was surprised and he knew his faced showed it. “That seems sudden.”

Auctus shrugged. “Mama wouldn’t have wanted me to cling to something that never made me truly happy. Let’s just say it’s been a weekend of revelations.”

“No shit,” Barca said. He turned back to watch Pietros again as he danced between Diona and Naevia. They’d switched to N SYNC’s _Bye Bye Bye_.

“I hope you treat that kid right and do this relationship thing proper once you get back to the city,” Auctus said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barca said as he cursed Auctus and his occasional perfect perception. 

“I have firsthand fucking knowledge of what you’re like in a relationship. I don’t care how many years it’s been. The Barca before me is the one still wrapped up in that heady discovery of getting to know someone. Sure, you like him, you might even actually love him, really, but you’re still too cautious because you think if he gets to know the real you, he’ll rabbit. That sound about right?” Auctus asked.

“You always were a miserable fucking know it all,” Barca murmured into his extremely watered-down beer. 

“I understand your need to live your life by your own creed, but one day you’re going to have to admit that some people, like me, know what’s better for you in certain situations. This would be one of them.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, trying to get me back?”

Auctus snorted. “We’ll always love each other Barca. We were good together, but we weren’t great. We both deserve great. You might have just found it with the infant there. He’s good for you. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Yeah, okay,” Barca said. He passed Auctus his empty beer bottle before he smoothed down his shirt. “I look okay?”

“Fucking gorgeous as always,” Auctus said. “Go get your boy.”

“Oh, just in time,” Diona declared as Barca approached. 

She shoved Pietros in Barca’s direction. Barca carefully caught him before they both fell down.

“She’s a lot stronger than she looks,” Pietros explained. 

“Slow song time,” Diona gleefully declared. 

Monica’s _Angel of Mine_ started and Barca busted out laughing even as he pulled Pietros close.

“Hey, it was either this or _Truly Madly Deeply_ ,” Pietros said. 

“She’s playing that next,” Naevia added as she pulled Crixus onto the dance floor. 

Barca watched them go with grin. “You three are a force of nature. A good one.”

“We aim to please,” Pietros said. “Now, come on, this is the moment of romantic revelation where the music swells and the audience _awwws_. We wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

“Not at all,” Barca said. He leaned down and rested his forehead against Pietros’ own, quietly laughing with him. “Thank you,” he said for what felt like the fiftieth time that weekend.

“It’s truly my pleasure,” Pietros said.

************

One last stop before they were on the road again. They had a tote bag full of leftovers from Oenomaus. The trunk was brimming with things Melitta and Auctus had shoved off on them. Pietros had insisted they take Barca’s yearbooks home. This was the final thing to be done before they could go back to their city and their normal lives and keep all this firmly rooted in the past. At least until the baby was born; Barca knew if he didn’t show up Melitta would just hunt him down again. He was sure Oenomaus was already in cahoots with Pietros anyway.

They had a whole traveling party with them too. Diona and Naevia were in their car with Auctus following them. He was going to scope out the city and Pietros had offered up his couch as a place to crash. 

Barca was supremely lucky to have the friends he did, old and new, no matter what. It had been a good weekend, which is why he’d left this for the very last. He needed to say this final goodbye. 

Pietros stood next to him, his hand clasped tight in Barca’s own, as they walked up the steep driveway to his childhood house. 

“I can’t believe you grew up here,” Pietros said. He looked out over the vast estates surrounding them. “I can’t believe a school official makes enough to afford such a house.”

“He shouldn’t,” Barca said. “It helps to have more than a few politicians in your pocket.”

Pietros tightened his hold on Barca’s hand. Barca took strength from it and used his free hand to knock on the door. He hesitated and pressed the doorbell instead. Barca could see the shadows behind the glass planes in the door, had already seen the curtains upstairs twitch when they’d parked on the side of the street, and knew his father was just waiting to see what he’d do. 

“It’s you,” Mago said. He glared at Pietros, his glare intensifying as he caught sight of their hands. “What’s this? Your child?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Pietros asked before Barca could say a word. “You have to be fucking kidding me. You don’t see your son for _thirteen fucking years_ and the first thing out of your mouth isn’t even a _hello_? Jesus. I’m supposed to be the orphan with a sob story and I can’t even believe this. At least I never had _this_ bullshit.” 

Pietros shook his head and turned to Barca. “So, yeah, we decided it last night while you and Crixus were doing the Macarena, but Oenomaus is officially your new dad. This,” and Pietros gestured at Mago to let him know just what he thought about _this_ , “is done. Done.”

Barca’s laughter started small, a shake in his shoulders, as he took in Mago’s shocked face and the cheers coming from the cars. He soon started laughing so loud the neighbor’s dog started to bark. Barca used his free hand to wipe at his eyes and grab his stomach.

“Oh, Christ I needed that.” He kissed Pietros with all the relief and joy he felt. “Thank you.”

“What I’m here for,” Pietros said.

Barca nodded at Mago. “Well, that’s all that needed to be said. Goodbye, Mago.”

He turned and walked away with Pietros to the loud applause and happy yells of Diona and Naevia. 

“Out of the mouth of babes,” Auctus said as he patted Pietros’ shoulder. “Good work, kid. He had it coming.”

“Yeah he did,” Pietros said.

Barca just kissed the top of his head and grinned. “Time to head home,” he said. “We need to rest up for Tuesday.”

“What’s Tuesday?” Pietros asked as the group broke up and went into their cars.

“Our second official date I suppose, if this counts as the first one,” Barca said. 

“Tuesday’s no good,” Pietros said. He patted Barca’s leg as he closed the door. “That’s for our third official date. How does Monday sound?”

Barca turned the key the ignition and put the car into drive. “Monday will work.”

“That’s what I thought,” Pietros said. 

He leaned forward and checked on the origami traveling bunny in the glove compartment. 

“Holy shit,” Pietros said as a large origami moose fell into his hands.

Barca smiled at him as he turned on the radio. “I had some time while Melitta was in her party planner mode.”

“You made me a moose,” Pietros said. 

“The first real gift I gave you had a moose on it so,” Barca let his sentence trail off. 

“You made me a moose. Thank you,” Pietros said. He waited until they were at a stop sign to lean over and kiss him.

It was only the horns honking from behind them that got Barca to pull away.


End file.
